


His Pajamas

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Little Smutt, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Fluff, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Smutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen lost 20 dollars last night but Amallia might have the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Pajamas

**Author's Note:**

> Texts from Last Night II Prompt, anonymous on tumblr: [text] You were mumbling a lot and offered me 20 dollars to leave you alone - for cullen & amalia in your au

 

It was too early for this shit.

> _CR: Did we get more food last night?_
> 
> _AT: No, why?_
> 
> _CR: I’m … losing my mind._
> 
> _AT: Don’t say that._
> 
> _CR: Sorry, but I really feel like I’m taking crazy pills here._
> 
> _AT: Will you just tell me what’s wrong?_
> 
> _CR: I lost 20 dollars._
> 
> _AT: Oh …_
> 
> _CR: Oh, what?!_

Nothing. A minute. Two minutes. After Amallia failed to respond for ten minutes, his impatience got the better of him. Cullen stomped to his door, adamant that he find out what had happened last night. When he flung open the door of his apartment, Amallia was standing before him, wearing his pajamas, again, and every bit of his frustration fled at the sight of her.

“Morning,” she mumbled in a drawling voice. “You’ve been up for a while, I take it?” Her eyes traveled up to his hair, curls freshly washed and tamed.

Of course she would notice. She failed to miss anything about him. “I wanted to get an early start. Glad I did,” he commented as he withdrew his wallet from his pocket and opened it to show it was empty. “Do you remember when I got cash?”

Amallia nodded her head as she took a step towards him and he startled at the cool tips of her fingers that snaked their way beneath the hem of his shirt to brush along his hips. He attempted to back away but she followed, coy smirk quirking her lips. “I do remember. I remember lots of things from last night.”

It wasn’t fair. How did she manage to reduce him to a stuttering fool every time she touched him? And her voice, hinting at things left unsaid, conjured the memory of their evening together for the first time that morning. He’d nearly forgotten, so inebriated that it had passed in somewhat of a blur. Cullen moaned a soft sigh as details became clear in his mind’s eye of their latest tryst. At least, he thought it had been such.

“Mal,” he whined, begging for her to stop. “Please, I need to figure out what happened to my money.”

Maker’s breath, the woman was insatiable. Her hand flew beneath her shirt – his shirt – and dipped into the waist band of her pants – his pants. Could she not focus on the issue at hand for just a minute? He’d soon forget about the money he’d lost if she kept tugging, pulling, groping, and she –

From beneath her shirt – his shirt, dammit! – she withdrew her phone and a twenty dollar bill. “I know exactly what happened to your money.”

No. That couldn’t be right. It made no sense. Mortified, his voice fell near to a whisper and shook with fear. “Oh, Maker, please tell me I did not stick that … somewhere … in your … I … oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, and he felt the hot tingle of his cheeks as they reddened in embarrassment.

“No, but I wish you had,” Amallia whispered to him. “Something far more boring happened. I’ll show you.” She swiped at the screen of her phone and flew through a list of text messages. Cullen saw they were all between the two of them.

“Did I really send you all of those?” he asked, voice unsteady.

A giggle was her only response until she stopped her search. “Here,” she stated, handing over her phone.

 

> _(2:01 AM) CR: wher r u?_
> 
> _(2:02 AM) AT: I’m in bed! Go to sleep!_
> 
> _(2:04 AM) CR: wat hapnd to my 20?_
> 
> _(2:05 AM) AT: You were mumbling a lot and you gave me 20 bucks to leave you alone._
> 
> _(2:06 AM) CR: k, g’nit_

“What in the ever loving fuck did I do last night?”

Amallia grabbed him by the hips and pulled him to her roughly. “You drank a profuse amount of alcohol. I’m surprised you didn’t get sick. And that you’re even able to stand this morning must be a testament to your …,” she paused, looking him over once with hungry eyes. “… health. You don’t feel ill?”

He shook his head, confused. “No. I admit there are some fuzzy spots in my memory of last night …” he trailed off, recalling the night once more and he grinned at her. “But I remember most of what happened.”

An eyebrow hitched towards her hairline and she folded her arms beneath her chest – Oh, Andraste preserve him, she wasn’t wearing a bra – and the coy smirk creased further into a lopsided grin. “Oh. Is that so, Mr. Rutherford? What do you think happened?”

She emphasized her question with a roll of her hips against his swelling groin, and his back collided with the wall. His feet had carried him absently, backing away from her as his mind reeled with her insistent hands and pleading looks.

What had happened? His thoughts fled and the vivid memories he thought he recalled vanished without a trace. “I … Oh … Mal, please … I’m so sorry. I don’t remember,” he muttered, mind suddenly blank.

With her lilting laugh, she slipped her phone from his grasp, tucking it into the waistband of her -- his! -- pants and gently cupped his cheek with the other. “That’s because nothing happened last night. You were so drunk, you passed out shortly after we got back. I felt so sorry for you. Are you sure you feel well?”

Well? He was far better than well. A relief so sweet washed over him as he closed his eyes. The mere thought of having sex with her while he was ridiculously drunk sickened him. He never wanted to do that, never wanted to simply rut away in a drunken stupor and take his pleasure without her receiving any of her own.

The renewed press of her body consumed his thoughts and the warmth soothed him further, calm and serene. Her hands came to rest behind his neck and his arms moved out of instinct to wrap around her waist. With his head buried in the crook of her neck, he inhaled deeply, swimming in her scent. Sea salt, pine, and something else, that new aroma he had yet to pin down. Until …

“Heather …”

Amallia jerked back from him, astonished. “Who?”

“No, not who,” he dismissed with a roll of his eyes. “What. Heather. You changed your … perfume or whatever it is you wear. Sea salt and pine, yes, but heather, too. It’s been driving me insane for weeks!”

“Oh …” Amallia replied, clearly confused, but as her brow unfurled and the clarity shown in her eyes, she smiled briefly. “I did find a new oil supplier. Must be a slightly different blend. Heather, hm? I’ll have to speak with him about that, it shouldn’t smell like—“

“No!” Cullen nearly shouted. “I … sorry. Please don’t change it. I really … I mean, if you don’t like it, then by all means, change it. But, I love it. It’s perfect for you.”

“Alright,” she began. “If you like it so much, then I’ll leave it be,” she said, voice soft and low and an impish grin returned to her lips. “So, you’ve found your money. You’ve pinned down the change in my scent. Anything else you’d like to … do this morning?”

His hand rubbed his stomach in small circles as he thought. “I should eat something, I haven’t—“ he began, but the words died on his tongue at the flat look from Amallia. “Or! Or … we could … if you want … I would … like to make it up to you … for last night …”

The soft fullness of her breasts, free beneath her shirt – Maker dammit all, his fucking shirt! – pressed against his chest and his head lolled back to thump against the wall. Her breath, hot on the shell of his ear, sent a rush of heat straight to his swelling groin. “Cullen, if you don’t take me to your bed this minute, I will take you right here against the wall behind your back.”

In a flurry of limbs and fabric, Cullen tore his shirt over her head and flung it aside. His lips crashed down onto hers as he grasped her bottom and picked her up to spin around, pinning her to the wall, her gasping moan echoing in his ears. Her legs wrapped tightly about his waist and he gripped her ass firmly, one hand slipping to her throat and tilting her head to expose her ear, breaking their kiss. He felt her pulse gallop and her chest heave in anticipation as he leaned further into her. His lips brushed against her ear and he whispered, “I’d like to see you try.”

In a fit, she writhed beneath his strength, but Cullen knew she wasn’t trying to overpower him. She could; she’d done it before, much to his delight, but this? No, she wanted him to take control, and he could see it in the blue flames of her eyes, dark and heavily lidded with lust. Her lips parted, mouth dropping open as he rolled his hips, arousal grinding against her core.

“Cullen,” she sighed.

“Yes?”

“This wall sucks, please take me to your bed?” she mewled with a pouting lip.

“Absolutely, pup.”

 


End file.
